


Be More Cruel

by StarryEyedWitch333



Series: Be More Cruel (Villainous/Be More Chill AU) [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: And a minor character death, BH will be the SQUIP, But okay on to actual tags, Crossover, Dem is kind of like cool aunt friend, Demencia is also known as Dem/Demi, Demencia studies cosmetology, Flug is a engineering student, Gen, He needs love, I have a general idea???, I mean, No spoilers yet, No triggers yet, That's not a spoiler right?, Unless you count swearing, Villainous au, Well I have no idea where this story is going, but yeah, flug needs a break, i'm such garbage, she helps you when you're sick and stuff, she's a good friendo, specifically hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryEyedWitch333/pseuds/StarryEyedWitch333
Summary: Flug is exhausted. Even though that's almost always the case, tonight it rings even more true. There's a big project coming up, and none of his group members are actually helping him, so he's stuck doing all of the hard work by himself. Plus, his workplace keeps "forgetting" to pay him, all while he grows into a mess of frenzied anxiety and depression.Then, he hears about the SQUIP, a scientifically advanced computer that can implant itself into one's brain to help them achieve their goals. Does he take the chance? Will it lead to something a bit more than he imagined?





	1. The Beginning

Flug was exhausted.

 

It was hard not to be. Being a college student at one of the top engineering schools in the world would do that to you, he told himself, rubbing his eyes underneath his goggles as he worked on one of his many,  _ many _ engineering projects. Namely, the most important one, the one that counted for nearly a quarter of his grade. He knew that he would need to visit the workshop the next day for the welding supplies, since to weld in his shitty apartment had not been the best idea at the time, and most definitely still was not. He shuddered slightly at the memory of the time he tried, before looking at the… er, invention would be too strong of a term for the mass of metal that seemed to be held together by a few nuts and bolts, and maybe a string of duct tape. More like a complete hunk of garbage.

 

A low growl escaped his lips, sitting back and putting his hands over his face as he pushed himself from the desk, spinning in the chair absentmindedly. He needed to take his mind off the piece of trash he created, but that was obviously easier said than done. Dammit, this was… this was not good. His group project, which he had been given the task of coming up with, creating, engineering, fine tuning, and writing the report on, was due within the next week, and to be honest, Flug felt like he was dying. Who wouldn’t? His group had mostly flaked on him, leaving him to do most of the work, on his own dime. If this wasn’t worth a quarter of his grade, he probably would’ve given up, but knowing him, everyone knew that he was more dependable than that. Or, to be more accurate, he was too much of a nervous wreck to actually stand up for himself and tell them that, hey, they needed to do part of the work too.

 

It had started a few months ago, when the project was first announced. Flug, being the organized mind he was, had talked to all of the group members, two girls and a boy whose names he couldn’t be bothered to remember, and gave them each a duty. While Flug was doing the blueprint, the boy was going to do the report, since he was the best in English, with one girl getting the parts, and the other girl doing the inventing. They had all came up with the idea of what to invent, and at first, it actually seemed to be going well. For the first week, anyway.

 

Then, the annoyance had started.

 

Whenever Flug would try to contact them, they would ignore him. Whether it be ignoring his calls, claiming they were busy, or even going so far as to block him on social media, which to be honest, he did not like to use unless it was a last resort, they would not respond. It didn’t matter what he did, or how he did it, he would always get blown off, told “Oh yeah, I haven’t forgotten. I’ll totally do it later!”

 

It was so… so  _ frustrating _ . He was trying so hard to make sure that they didn’t fail, and all they did was sit on their ass, probably eating some sort of unhealthy snack while he did all of the work.

 

He had tried to transfer the blueprints to the girl working on the actual inventing part… Christine! That was her name. But he had tried to transfer them a month before the final product was due, and all of a sudden, his computer had froze. He’d not only lost his work for that class, but for all classes in general. That night had been rough, and he’d stayed awake until five in the morning trying to fix everything, with frustrated, sleep deprived tears in his eyes and shaky breaths. He didn’t sleep for another day or so, afraid to lose anything else.

 

And so, he’d remade the blueprint, having thankfully printed it out so he could give it to her in person and still having it on him when she was nowhere to be found, and so copied it off of the physical version. It had been annoying, of course, since the cheap blueprint making software he could barely afford was also not the best. However, he couldn’t get a refund, and he was stuck with it for the rest of his life, or at least until he had enough money saved up again to actually be able to afford both the software and his rent. And food. And other utilities…

 

Ugh! He didn’t need to think about this right now. His next paycheck was coming in the mail sooner or later. They wouldn’t just forget to pay him again, right? They couldn’t do that! That was against the law, though God only knew that Flug would be unable to actually try them in court. He could barely afford the “Souper” six packs of instant ramen he bought on a weekly basis, let alone the thousands of dollars that a lawyer would cost. Besides, it wasn’t like he had the ability to work anywhere other than the bodega right down the street. He didn’t have a car, and the bus wasn’t the best in the city. He did have a bike he could use, but after a few hours of nonstop standing, he didn’t know if he’d really want to bike all the way home. He was never that athletic, anyway, so even having the bike was a waste of money. Maybe he could give it away… But no. He needed that method of transportation for school. Even if he didn’t particularly like it.

 

With another heaving sigh, he pulled himself from his thoughts, and decided that that was enough for the night. He had been awake for the past… what, two days now? With no sleep, barely eating and the like. He may not have liked to admit it, but he needed a break. And so with that, he pushed himself away out of the chair, and flopped face first into his bed, his greasy dirty blonde hair curling around his face. He would really need a haircut soon. Maybe Demi could spare some time to this clusterfuck of fluff that he called hair.

 

Speaking of which, he wondered how Demencia was doing. Of course, that wasn’t her real name, but she refused to go by anything other than that. Even when the professor would call on her, she would not say anything. It shocked him that she’d rather take a bad grade than actually be called by her real name, but hey. Who was he to judge? After all, he was literally named after a plane crash because his parents “thought it sounded cool.” He let out a laugh at the memory of being in his first year of college, and in his Icelandic class, when they had told him that the word ‘flight’ translated to Flug. All heads had whipped around to see him, and he couldn’t help but feel heat rise to his face. Another kid had raised their hand to speak, and the professor had called upon them at once. “What does the word slys mean,” he had asked.

 

“Oh, that means accident.”   
  
And the class had laughed like it was the funniest thing on Earth! An engineer named plane crash?! What a laugh! Only it wasn’t funny.

 

That was besides the point, though, and he turned his mind back to Demencia. He wondered how she’d even gotten into the school. Then he remembered: The school also had a very good cosmetology department. That made little sense in his mind, since he’d always seen cosmetology as a… well, a lesser science. But again, he wasn’t going to judge. On the plus side, the department gave free haircuts to the students, so he’d never really have to worry about payment. But Demi was his favorite, for some reason. They had instantly bonded when she had come up behind him for his bimonthly haircut, and by bimonthly, he meant once every other month, and had immediately complimented him on his hairstyle. He didn’t know why, but that small compliment had made him smile, and they’d soon become close friends.

 

He didn’t know. Something about this weird, hyperactive girl who he called a friend was… fascinating. Not in a lovey dovey way, or anything. Besides, if anything, he swung for the other team. And by other, he meant no team. He didn’t have time for romance, time for most friendship, time to even  _ sleep _ , but here he was, in his bed...

 

He sat in silence for a few minutes after that, mind a blank slate of anxiety. If he didn’t complete this project, this stupid fucking project, he would fail the course, and possibly get kicked out on his ass. After that, he’d never get into another school, and it would be all of the other student’s fault, right? He had tried to be organized, tried to keep everything together, and they wouldn’t even talk to him! How was he supposed to communicate with his teammates when they wouldn’t even communicate with him?! It was so… so…!

 

He let out a scream of frustration into the bed, gripping his hair tightly with hands that were still gloved. He had forgotten to take his gloves off again, and that just added to his frustration! Maybe… Maybe he did need to take a break. He wouldn’t be able to afford it now, but maybe one day, he could take a whole semester off. Travel or something. Yeah, that would be fun, but for now, he was trapped in this horrible apartment, with this horrible project that he couldn’t get done. Plus, he’d need to write an essay on why this invention, a more efficient hydroelectric turbine, was much more than the piece of garbage it looked and acted like. Maybe he could say that it was a scale model, not meant to actually represent the invention itself. With all of the calculations he’d made on the blueprints, and the research that had gone into the actual design, he would be surprised if it ended up being a mess. However, the project guidelines specifically stated that it had to be a working model, so that idea was out of the question.

 

Flug stifled a yawn, rolling on his side and holding a hand over his mouth. Man, he was really tired. If there was ever a more apt time to sleep, he hadn’t encountered it, he thought to himself as he pulled out his phone and earbuds, as was the ritual. Every night, he would take use his phone to play something while he fell asleep, just to avoid his mind making up anything to scare him. He wouldn’t say he was mentally ill, but he the creaking of his apartment and the skittering of rats over the floor was a bit more noise than he’d appreciate when he was sleeping. Usually nothing of importance, really. Mostly news, or some sort of unboxing video because, to be honest, he hated those with a passion. They were just so boring! Tonight, though? He felt like tonight would be a news night, since really, he wasn’t in the mood for unboxing. To see other people’s inventions get so much better than the ones he was working on was not a thing he was interested in right now.

 

Soon, the news was playing over his phone, somewhat quieter than usual since he was trying to sleep, not pay attention, and he let out a small huff, closing his eyes. Apparently, Temporal Rose, one of the city’s main supervillains with the power of time control, had been apprehended at a bank. That wasn’t the interesting part, though. That title would go to the fact that she was trying to get… Mountain Dew Red? Why would she need that? She needed money to buy it from somewhere. A Spencers or something, probably. He’d only been there a few times, and even then, it was because Demencia had dragged him there to see if they could find anything he’d liked. Not really his cup of tea, if he were being honest. He flipped his phone a bit so he could see the screen better, now intrigued about where this was going.

 

“Temporal Rose was apprehended today in front of the Bank of America on Fifth Street,” the news lady shouted, trying to be heard over the woman literally screaming behind her, words garbled and hard to hear since they were primarily focusing on said newswoman. However, that didn’t stop some of the words from being intelligible. Flug strained to hear more of what Temporal was saying.

 

“Get it out! You have to help me, you don’t understand, I need it  _ out _ ,” she shrieked, long pink hair almost as messy as his own and her clothes stained as if she had stayed inside for a while, even as she continued struggling in the grip of the police officers that had caught her. Flug was somewhat surprised that she didn’t just use her time powers to get out, but knew that she wouldn’t be able to hear his suggestion anyways, and kept his mouth shut.

 

And then she stilled. Not just unmoving, but not  _ breathing _ either. Like she was dead. Had… Had the news station just broadcasted someone dying?! Even the newswoman looked surprised, turning to see the way the body fell limply to the ground, eerily quiet and different than the woman who had just been screeching like a banshee and contorting in ways that should be impossible, before the live broadcast turned back to the anchors who seemed just as, if not more shocked than the lady. They immediately apologized for showing what had happened, grimaces evident in their voices, but that wasn’t enough to keep Flug from turning the channel off. He didn’t want to think about this anymore, he decided.

 

Maybe he should watch an unboxing video instead.

 

He shakily flicked through the numerous unboxing videos, trying to find one that was  _ just _ boring enough to fall asleep to, but still interesting enough so that he wouldn’t click off right away. After thirty videos of the same, generic stuff that annoyed him so much, he found one that kind of piqued his interest a bit: an unboxing video for something called a… SQUIP? He raised an eyebrow at the name, having never heard of anything like that before now. With his interest somewhat high, he clicked it, the video loading up in mere seconds.

 

“Hey everyone, Jeremy here, and today, I’ve got something really special to show you,” a hushed voice greeted from the other side of the screen, though the boy saying it was invisible since the camera was focused on a shoebox of all things. What, were SQUIPs some kind of new shoe craze? That seemed pretty stupid to Flug, considering he’d had only one, maybe two pairs of shoes that he wore. To even think of buying a new pair of shoes was wasting money, to him. He wasn’t  _ made _ of cash! He was just about to click off to scroll some more, when Jeremy began talking again. “You can’t find this shit anywhere. Not in stores, not in Rite Aids, not even on the streets! I can’t even believe I got my hands on it, to be honest. The SQUIP! Or something like Supreme Queen… uh... I don’t remember, but that doesn’t sound right.”

 

Now… Now, Flug was curious, to say the least. Something he couldn’t just get off the streets? What exactly was he talking about? What kind of shoes were these?

 

“So, this kid at school dragged me into the bathroom, and I thought I was done for! But, he told me about this pill that you could take, and… Well, it’s hard to explain.” At that, the kid shifted the camera slightly, obviously moving to do some sort of nervous tick. Most likely scratching the back of his neck, or something of the sort. “But apparently, it’s a computer that implants itself into your brain or something? I don’t know. Rich was kind of vague about it. He did say that it would help with social standing. I wonder if it could also help with getting girls…” He trailed off for a few seconds. “Anyway, let’s do this!”

 

Slowly, as if doing it to an imaginary drum roll, he opened the box, to reveal… a lot of packing peanuts and a single, gray pill. Oblong, in capsule form, kept in a plastic box. “Wow. I was expecting a bit more than this,” Jeremy muttered offhandedly, picking up the pill to see it while also holding it close to the camera, causing it to focus a bit. “Maybe some dry ice…”

 

“Well, this is it, I guess. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much, but it is what I was told it would be, so I really can’t complain.” A pause. “Here goes nothing!”

 

With that, he swallowed the pill, and a sipping noise could be heard off camera. Maybe he had some sort of drink nearby? “According to the guy who gave it to me, it’s only activated after drinking Mountain Dew. Not any variation of it, just… Just Mountain Dew..” Well, that both explained the question he had, and added several more. Why Mountain Dew? Why call it a SQUIP? Who made this product? What even was this?

 

There was a silence, a tense one as the kid tried to see if it was working. A voice could be heard in the background, some other kid or something. “Hey, Jeremy, did it work,” it asked excitedly, the camera turning to see a sixteen year old of African American descent with short hair, or at least, short by Flug’s standards.

 

“No, not yet. I guess this thing was a hunk of junk after-AH!”

 

Flug jumped as the kid dropped the phone, and it hit the ground, before the other kid picked it up to reveal a brown haired kid, around sixteen or so, on his knees and gripping his head as if in pain. “Jeremy! Jeremy are you okay,” shouted the new cameraman, reaching out a red sleeved hand for his friend. The kid, Jeremy, slapped it away before he could come too close. “Do I need to-”

 

“No! Don’t stop recording, Michael! It’s… It’s working, dude,” Jeremy said, laughing aloud, before groaning in pain. “It’s totally working! Oh fuck, it hurts!”

 

Then, the sound of a door opening caused the two kids to start, the camera flipping towards the stairs that led out of the basement they were in, door visible somewhat in the dim lights, the way up marked by fairy lights.

 

“Hey, kids, I’m home,” called out a much older voice, distinctly female, while the two teens looked at each other with surprise in their eyes. That’s when the video cut off, with a final “Oh shit!”

 

Flug lay there for a second, bewildered at what he had just seen, his brown eyes wide and a bit startled looking. It was so… strange. A pill that contained a small computer that went from your stomach to your brain? It must’ve traveled in the bloodstream somehow. 

 

It was such a fascinating concept to him, if he were being honest. And according to the kid, it could help with social standing? Hmm… It was a bad idea, and he knew it. Just look at what it did to that Jeremy kid! But, if all that pain ended up going to a good cause, like maybe the project or something… Well, there didn’t seem to be any adverse side effects that he knew of right  _ now _ . He’d definitely research it in the morning. Maybe even text Demencia about whether or not it was a good idea. Of course, knowing her, she’d say yes in a heartbeat, and help supply it to him with no concern over whether it did him harm or not.

 

But he was a scientist. And at the forefront of any good scientist’s mind?

 

Curiosity.


	2. Taking a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug is in desperate need of a break, and who better to help him have one than his one (and only) friend, Demencia?

Flug must’ve fallen asleep at some point in the night, since the next thing he knew, there was sunlight streaming into his room from behind the curtains, illuminating the dust particles that float freely in the air as he rolled over onto his back with a groan. Everything _hurt_ , mostly because he slept in that strange position with his head to the side and his legs underneath him, holding most of his weight, and now they cramped like all Hell. What time was it? How long had he been out? He felt like he already knew the answer, since he had a pretty strict sleep schedule, but there was always that slight fear that he had in the back of his mind that said he’d slept for longer than anticipated and ended up sleeping through school. It had happened once, back when he was first starting college, and he did _not_ want to relive that.

 

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that it was only eight in the morning, so he hadn’t slept too much. And then he remembered that he didn’t even have classes today, since it was a Saturday and who the fuck would have a lecture on a Saturday? He let out a chuckle at that, stretching a bit before pushing himself so he was sitting up, and checking his texts and emails on the phone that now sat in his hand, rubbing his eyes with the other.

 

The first thing that popped up was a text from Demi, and he quirked an eyebrow at that, opening it hesitantly. He knew that sometimes, she would send some of the things she found on the weird side of the internet, and this one was linked to a YouTube video of some sort. The title was in Japanese, and he prayed it wasn’t some weird, creepy thing that she called “cute” for some reason, even if they were _far_ from what he’d call such things. He shuddered at the memory of Say Mei Time. Ugh, that one had been weird, even for her.

 

> **Demi:** Dude, u srsly have to check this shit out! It’s crazy!

 

Flug rolled his eyes at that,  a small grimace washing over his face. This is what prefaced most of her weird, nonsensical texts, the only warning to a tsunami of whatever was on her mind at the time.

 

> **Flug:** I swear to Christ, Demi, if this is gore of some sort… 
> 
> **Demi:** No no! Its legit cool! Just watch it, I dont wanna spoil it 4 u! X3

 

With that, Flug let out a sigh, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. God, if this was something weird, he would find Demencia and kick her into next Thursday. Then, he’d apologize because he could never really stand up for himself and he’d feel bad if he didn’t. Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he clicked the link, and the video loaded fairly quickly.

 

The first thing he noticed was that the whole video was in Japanese. Or, at least, he thought it was Japanese. He had never really been interested in most foreign languages, and he’d only taken Icelandic because he was required to take a language in high school, and it had seemed like a cool choice at the time. Lord knew he didn’t feel the same way anymore. However, what he did see, was…

  
A bunch of gray oblong pills. A box full of them. Not even a box, a whole crate, just laying there, with the acronym ‘S.Q.U.I.P.’ written on the side. And in front of the crate, a lady of East Asian descent, very professional looking with a black pencil skirt, dark blue blazer, and a black vest with matching tie over top of a white collar button up shirt, her long hair tied in a bun. She began speaking rapidly in what he assumed to be Japanese, but really wasn’t sure. He hit pause and texted Demi, a bit irritated at this.

 

> **Flug:** What the fuck am I watching? Is this some sort of cursed video?
> 
> **Demi:** Wat? No! I wouldn’t do that ;3; but srsly, jst turn the captions on, nerd. I thought youd kno

 

Flug slapped his forehead. Of course! Captions were the bane of most people’s existence, but in this case, he felt he could withstand them for a little while. Flicking back to the video, he unpaused it, turning on the captions and setting them to English. Luckily, the video makers seemed to have accounted for American people finding it and wondering what this crap was, and had added them in to the YouTube caption list.

 

The captions began translating. “And here, you can see the Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor, otherwise known as the SQUIP,” she apparently said, taking a pill out of the crate and holding it up to the camera so it could zoom in. Looked like gel capsules possibly, but it was hard to tell, even with the close up. “Each of these pills contain a powerful CPU nanocomputer that implants itself into the user’s brain, allowing them to achieve their wildest dreams. Anything is possible with the SQUIP, including…”

 

At that, the video transitioned to a fairly well rendered but still crappy animation of a sad stick figure, suddenly surrounded by other stick figures and smiling. “Popularity.” A stick figure wearing a skirt approached, giving the first one what appeared to be a kiss. “Love.” Another stick figure approached with a bag with that weird Y symbol with two lines in it. Japanese currency, probably. “Money.”

 

Definitely Japanese currency.

 

“Enjoy the use of your very own, personal SQUIP for only 600,000¥,” she said cheerfully, and Flug would’ve spit out a drink in surprise like some lame comedy sketch with how calmly she said that. Six hundred _thousand_ … whatever the name of Japanese currency was?! Yen or something? He didn’t remember, but that sounded right. His phone buzzed with another text from Demencia.

 

> **Demi:** Dude, I dunno bout u, but Id luv 2 try one~ :P
> 
> **Flug:** SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND YEN THOUGH?! I don’t have that kind of money!
> 
> **Demi:** Jeez, Flug, u dont have 2 shout. Besides, thats yen. In America, its only about six hundred dollars, give or take.
> 
> **Flug:** … how did you know that?
> 
> **Demi:** :P :D :3

 

Flug held his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead  before texting back. 

 

> **Flug:** And where do _you_ suppose we get the money for such a thing?
> 
> **Demi:** Ooh, that was cool! How did u do the weird slanty thing? w/ the words?
> 
> **Flug:** Demi.
> 
> **Flug:** Focus.
> 
> **Demi: _…_**
> 
> **Demi: _…_**
> 
> **Flug:** Just spit it out already!
> 
> **Demi:** _**…**_
> 
> **Demi:** _GOT IT~_
> 
> **Flug:** Oh my god.
> 
> **Demi:** _I CAN FEEL THE POWER! IT GROWS INSIDE ME~_
> 
> **Flug:** Demi, please.
> 
> **Demi:** Ok, ok, fine.
> 
> **Demi:** but do u wanna meet up today? Im available around 12.

 

Flug thought to himself for a second. Did he really… Well, he _did_ want to see Demencia, so that question was answered. But did he have the time for it? He needed this project finished by Tuesday, and ready to present by Thursday. However, he couldn’t put off taking a break forever. And besides, what could one little lunch date with a friend do? It wasn’t like he was putting it off for two days!

 

With a deep breath, followed by a final sigh, he looked to his phone, to see that she had texted him while he was stuck in his thoughts.

 

> **Demi:** _well?_
> 
> **Demi:** I _love the tilted letters :P_
> 
> **Flug:** Eh. Sure. What the heck?
> 
> **Demi:** Hell yeah! Dont forget again~ :P

 

Flug chuckled a bit.

 

 

> **Flug:** I won’t, I won’t. I’m just going to get some work done, and then I’ll meet you there.
> 
> **Demi:** Sounds like a plan!

 

With that, Flug stopped responding, and turned to his desk. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? He had sleep on his side now, and after taking a break and getting some food other than instant noodles, he would be capable of anything. It was scientifically proven that people worked better after being given a chance to unwind, right? A quick Google search revealed that, yes, he was correct in his statement. Sure, he cherry picked his data, and only looked at the article he _wanted_ to see, rather than actually searching through multiple studies to find the correct answer, but hey, he just needed some motivation to get out of the house, and by God was he going to get it any way he needed to.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Fluggy! Over here!”

 

Flug smiled softly as the ecstatic girl he called his friend called him over, dark pink side mohawk or whatever they were called bouncing cheerfully over half of her face, the shaved half a neon green that hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long. She seemed to be wearing her usual leather jacket with spikes on the shoulder, ones that she sharpened herself on occasion, a black skater skirt, and a dark blue tank top. The striped leggings were ripped on one side, and she was wearing combat boots, each with a small zipper that acted as what he assumed to be an extra pocket.

 

He, himself, had taken a shower for the first time in what felt like forever, and probably was, before changing into something that was at least somewhat presentable: a blue NASA T-shirt with a red collar, jeans, and his one (and only) pair of ratty converse sneakers, nearly destroyed after many a months of wear and tear. He would need to buy a new pair soon, before these broke and he was left shoeless. Maybe today was the day when that finally happened? Either that, or he go on Amazon or eBay to find what he was looking for. The latter two were usually cheaper, anyway, as long as he didn’t try to order overnight shipping or something.

 

“Yo, Earth to Flug!” Dem’s bubbly voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked at her with a bit of surprise. Then, he laughed when she started waving her hand in front of his face before slapping it away in a playful manner.

 

“Heh, yeah. I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess,” he said, rubbing his eyes with a soft smile. Demencia feigned shock and concern, although it was hard to tell if it was actually fake. She did have that huge grin on her face that she kept there all the time…

 

“Don’t tell me you pulled another all-nighter,” she asked, nudging him playfully, smiling at him.

 

Flug raised his hands defensively. “No, no! That’s not what happened,” he said with an exhausted smile on his face. The smile didn’t last long, though, and he scratched the back of his neck nervously, Demi seeming to notice that something was wrong.

 

A concerned look crossed over her face, very out of character for the girl who seemed to always be hyperactive in some way, shape, or form. Probably because of the six cans of Monster she drank in a single sitting. She was like the personification of a caffeine overdose, and honestly, he was surprised that she wasn’t dead yet.

 

“You sure Flug Bug? You seem a bit out of it,” she said, a light grimace falling over her face. Before he could even think of a response that would cheer her up though, she seemed to think of something that did just that, taking his arm and beginning to drag him through the swarm of people that populated the mall. “Hey! I just remembered that there’s this amazing new sushi bar in the food court! You just gotta try it, come on!”

 

He couldn’t really bring himself to complain. She was just looking out for him, anyway. Besides, most nights, she was the only thing reminding him to eat and sleep, since “How can I be bestfriends with a dead body?” He let himself smile at that, and decided to follow wherever Demencia decided to take him.

 

They arrived in the food court after a few minutes, having gone the long way because _somebody_ had a poor sense of direction and refused to look at any of the directories that they had passed on the way there, sitting at an empty booth after receiving their orders. Of course, Demencia being Demencia had ordered the dragon roll, since nothing could stop her love of anything lizard like. He had briefly wondered why she hadn’t gone into herpetology instead of cosmetology, but then realized that:

 

  1. Knowing Demencia, she would want to keep all of the lizards the school owned,
  2. She wasn’t really much into science to begin with, and
  3. She probably didn’t even know that it existed.



 

Besides, she was already happy with what she was doing anyways, so who was he to stop her? Flug, himself, had just ordered a nigiri combo with some california rolls. He was always one for routine, so to order anything outside of that would be uncomfortable, in his eyes. It was weird for him to actually go out and try something new, unless it was a new restaurant that served a cuisine that he enjoyed. He did have a soft spot for pho noodles, but-

 

“Flug, seriously, have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying?! Rude,” Demencia said, cutting off his thoughts once more and poking at him with a chopstick and a mischievous grin.

 

“Uh… yes,” Flug retorted, a nervous smile crossing his lips, pulling a piece of salmon nigiri into his mouth to avoid talking, but saying one last word. “Totally.”

 

“Oh yeah? Then what were we talking about?”

 

“Um…”

 

Silence filled the air between them as Flug tried to think of what she had been saying, giving Demencia a blank look before finally giving up and just shrugging, deciding to just guess. “S-Squids or something?”

 

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes at him with a pouty face. Flug stared back, wincing a little in fear that he had actually made her upset. She wasn’t the type to do so, but when she lost her cool, she _really_ lost it. “... Close enough, I suppose. But you really should learn to pay more attention,” she relented, her regular grin returning and Flug letting out a sigh of relief. He was honestly shocked that she didn’t hate him yet, or at all it seemed, but he wasn’t going to point out his multiple flaws right now. That was what mirrors were for.

 

“So, back on the topic of Squids-”

 

“SQUIPS,” she corrected, interrupting with a wink. “And I thought you were supposed to be the genius here.” She ate another piece of her dragon roll with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Yeah? Well, nobody said we couldn’t _both_ be geniuses. Just that I’m the superior intellect in this little gathering,” he retorted, a sly smirk gracing his face. This earned him a playful jab from Demencia, who snickered at his joke a little harder than he expected. “Woah, calm down. Don’t need you choking on your rolls.”

 

“I’m not going to choke, nerd,” she teased, mouth still stuffed. “Besides, I still got words to say and I don’t wanna forget them!” She swallowed her food, before continuing. “So, this SQUIP thing, right? I heard that they’re super rare, but!”

 

“But?”

 

She began eating again. “There’s this guy, who says he knows a guy, who says his cousin knew a girl who went to Japan and came back with like, fifteen SQUIPS. They’re looking for people to give it to, and I may or may not have told them you were interested in trying one!”

 

Flug choked on his soda, coughing a bit before forcing out a surprised, “WHAT?!”

 

She gave a cheeky grin, waving her hand dismissively as if she _hadn’t_ just cost him six hundred dollars. “Relax, Fluggy! I gotcha covered! Consider it an early birthday gift!”

 

“My birthday isn’t until June. Of next year. Why would you eve-”

 

“Uh-uh-uh! It’s not nice to reject a gift, Flug. Really, where are your manners today,” she tutted, waving her chopsticks absentmindedly. “It’s too late now to actually send it back, anyways. It’ll come in the mail around… a week? Maybe? I just thought I’d let you know so you wouldn’t be surprised! And besides, if _you_ don’t want it, I know a girl with two thumbs who can take it off your hands.” At that, she pointed to herself, wiggling her eyebrows.

 

“Wh-where did you even get the money?! How-”

 

“Jeez, if I knew you were going to ask so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have gotten you the stupid thing.”

 

Flug took a deep breath, before putting his head in his hands. This hadn’t been what he was expecting when he went out for lunch with Dem, but then again, when was anything she did expected? He guessed it fit her character, but to blow six hundred dollars on some stupid pill?! Speaking of which… “You did do research on if the SQUIP actually worked before you bought it, right?”

 

Demencia fell silent, a small frown coming over her face, before she let out a soft “Whoops.”

 

“Whoops? What do you mean, _whoops_?! Don’t tell me you wasted over half a grand on something when you don’t even know if it works or not!”

 

“I… didn’t waste over half a grand on something that I didn’t know worked?” She shrugged, before returning to her milkshake and sipping, Flug still holding his head. God, this girl gave him a headache, he thought to himself as he leaned back with a sigh.

 

They sat in silence for a little while, Demencia obviously feeling buyer’s remorse as she _should_ , and Flug just trying to wrap his head around the fact that someone had just bought a six hundred dollar pill with his name on it. He had always hated people spending money on him, and this time was even less of an exception with the sheer amount of cash that she had used.

 

Demencia was the first to break the silence. “Listen, Flug. I just saw that you were having a bit of a hard time, and I wanted to make you feel better,” she murmured, much quieter than her usual demeanor of shouting everything in an excited tone at the top of her lungs. When he looked up, she had her head down, solemnly sipping away at her milkshake. He didn’t think it was possible to make milkshakes a sad thing, but lo and behold, there it was. An example of sheer melancholic depression sitting right in front of him, dressed in neon colors and rebel clothing.

 

He sighed, hanging his head in defeat. “I mean… Ugh. It’s just… I’m frustrated at some stupid project I’m working on. Not you. I’ll keep the thing, but please, _please_ don’t anything like this again.”

 

She looked back up with a smile on her face, almost as if she hadn’t been on the verge of tears not even five seconds ago. “I make no promises!”

 

“Dem, no.”  
  
“Dem yes! Now, are you finished with your food? Cuz from the looks of things, you could use a shopping spree,” she squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. “On me!”

 

“Come on, Dem. At least let me pay for something,” he bemoaned, before being hushed by Demencia with a finger to his lips.

  
“Shoosh! You look like a walking zombie, and you still haven’t even gotten your below minimum wage paycheck! I pay. At least for a new pair of shoes. Your’s are falling apart! Please?” She put on a puppy dog face, which was strange since she looked more like a lizard than anything, before Flug let out a groan.

 

“Ugh, fine. But _only_ a pair of shoes. Anything else we buy, I’m paying for. Got it?”

 

“Nope! Now come on! Let’s skedaddle,” she said happily, picking up both trays, which were now entirely devoid of food save for a chunk of wasabi, a little ginger, and some shrimp tails, and dashing over to the nearest trash can, Flug following close behind. Just the shoes, and then he would go home, and spend the rest of the day working on his project. First, he’d finish it, then he’d write the paper. Then, he’d tell the other kids how to use it before they presented. All in all, the work should only take three days, as long as he didn’t sleep or take any breaks but to go to the bathroom.

 

Yeah. That schedule would work! He wouldn’t have to worry about the project, he’d get it done, and if he got a lower grade, he could always tell the professor what had happened! Things would be fine…

  
Right?


	3. All Work and No Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug desperately tries to finish his project before the due date. It's easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Starry here. Sorry for the whole not posting anything for months thing. I... I actually feel kind of bad about that. Like, I disappeared on you guys, and... Well, yeah. I'm really super sorry about that. I was just going through some tough times (mostly college and stuff), and it's hard to write if your heart's not in it, you know? This is a short filler chapter, mostly just to get me out of my rut. So yeah. Hope you enjoy it anyways :) Next chapter will be a lot better! No spoilers yet, but someone will be making their first appearance ;)
> 
> Stay tuned.

Flug sighed as he shut the door behind him, tossing the bag with his box of brand new red converse sneakers besides it before throwing himself onto the bed. He couldn’t believe it; he had spent three hours at the mall. Three hours that he could’ve been using to fix up this stupid project he was working on. A half hour spent in the fucking  _ Disney _ Store of all places, with Demencia trying to choose between a Bing Bong plush that smelled like cotton candy, or a Lotso Huggin Bear that smelled like strawberries. Eventually, she had just bought both and it had been done, thank whatever God was out there, and they were able to leave before she became engrossed with anything else. But it was still a half hour wasted, three hours  _ wasted _ .

 

He threw his pillow over his face, holding it close as he groaned into it. Great. Fucking  _ great _ . Now, he had even less time to actually do the project, he reeked, and he was going to get a pill in the fucking mail. A pill that cost upwards of six hundred dollars, might he add! He thought he was going to get a pill in the mail, anyway. Maybe he’d actually have to pick it up? He sighed, throwing the pillow out of the way and just staring at the ceiling. It didn’t matter. It was going to happen, the whole world was crumbling around him, and he felt like he was going to die.

 

Part of him wished he did.

 

He still had his schedule, though. As long as he pulled two consecutive all nighters, as well as maybe pushing his bladder to the brink of complete destruction, and making bathroom breaks as short as possible, he would be fine. Right? Work while cooking, or even order out if he could afford it. Demencia was always going willy nilly with her cash, so she probably wouldn’t even mind lending him some! Though, he’d feel bad if he ended up actually doing that. Of course, he’d probably just end up forgetting to eat, until his body started complaining and he was forced to, lest he pass out and waste even  _ more _ time than he already was. He could pull that off, right?

 

With that, he pushed himself off the bed once more, sitting up with a grunt before finally getting back to work, like he had told himself he would. If he didn’t finish this project by Tuesday, not only would he fail, but everyone would hate him, and he really couldn’t handle that kind of stress right now. Or ever. But specifically right now.  As long as he rarely ate, barely slept, and used the toilet as infrequently as possible, though, he would finish, and things would be okay. He’d be fine! He just needed time to actually work and do the things he needed to do.

 

He moved over to his desk, cracking his fingers and looking to the blueprint that sat on his desk. He had everything he needed, and most of it could be done here. The rest could be finished up during his breaks between each class to go to the mechanics workshop. He could do this. Things would work out!

 

* * *

 

 

And they did.

 

Sure, it had taken two whole days and nights of being locked in his apartment with no breaks, except to use the bathroom, and using whatever money he could scrounge up to order a large cheese pizza from that horrible restaurant down the street, but it  _ worked _ . He had a (somewhat) functional prototype, by Monday morning and all it had cost was his sleep schedule, his taste for decent food and his sanity! A small price to pay for success.

 

He looked to the finished product that sat on his desk, wiping the sweat off his brow before laughing hysterically, which was shortly followed by crying in relief. Oh God, he’d actually succeeded! He’d actually done it, with some time to spare, and by some he meant around seventeen hours to write the paper, which thankfully only had to be, like, five pages? He could manage that, right? He wasn’t the best writer, but hey, it was better than not turning anything in at all. Oh! And he also had to do the presentation… and make sure everyone knew how to work the device… 

 

Oh… He really hadn’t thought this through, had he?

 

Nobody else was going to help him on this, and he was exhausted to the point that he was trembling with nerves and the energy to actually keep himself up was waning. He didn’t know if he could actually make it to class today, but if he didn’t go then he wouldn’t be able to finish the actual mechanical parts of this stupid piece of-

 

He stopped that train of thought before it could go any further, taking deep breaths. He was… He was okay. He could do this. Just needed to make it through the day, and then he could finish everything between classes, just like he had told himself he would! It wasn’t going to go wrong! And if everything went according to plan, he would have… he counted on his fingers. Twelve hours left! One page an hour, for five hours, and then all he would have to do were the slides. He could do this! No, not could. He  _ would _ do this. Even if he felt like he was going crazy, even if he felt like he was dying, both figuratively and literally, he was going to do this, and he was going to succeed.

 

But first, he wanted to know what time it was. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, if the fact that he was crying and close to passing out didn’t make that obvious. He would need to decide whether it was better to try and sleep for the next however many hours he could squeeze in before class was a good idea, or if he should just cover up the fact that he was a sleep deprived mess of a man with a caffeine addiction and try to start and hopefully finish the paper as best as he could manage. He let out a soft chuckle as the idea to put his name and  _ only _ his name crossed his mind. That would be funny to him, since he did all of the work, but probably not to the other classmates that were “helping” him. Or the rest of the students in his class, since to be honest, he ranked much lower on the social hierarchy than the other people in his group, and to do that would be basically social suicide. Of course, he didn’t care about being liked by everyone. Nobody could be liked by every person they met! It was an impossibility! That’s what his rational mind told him, anyways. If anything, though, it was being hated that he couldn’t handle, and the risks that came with it: Lost job opportunities, the possibility of sabotage. This university was a dog eat dog world, and if he weren’t careful…

 

He let out a frustrated sigh at that, wiping at his eyes from beneath his glasses before pulling out his phone to check the time. Five in the morning, and his first class didn’t start for another… round up to six hours. He guessed he could begin writing the essay for two and a half hours, see how far he could get, and then pass out for another two and a half hours until it was time to leave. Bring his project with him to classes, try to fix it up here and there. Hell, maybe he’d actually get something stable enough to consider a finished product, if he could sneak off to the auto shop sometime during the school day. Maybe if he was lucky, he could confront one of the other students that had wrung him out to dry (Ah, but would he have the courage/energy to? That was the main question.)

 

He was just about to put his phone back down so he could get back to work, which he probably should’ve, considering the approaching due date, and the fact that none of his other ‘partners’ knew what he had made or how to do it, when something caught his eye: His notifications. Over the course of two days, Demencia had texted him over sixty times, most of them one letter in length, spelling out his name when put together. Others were done in italics. Some even had those weird emoticons she found so endearing, which he found to be the complete opposite (“Why say in pictures what you can say in words? Less confusion.”). It was all he could do to not text her, though. He hated when other people worried, especially about him, but shooting a quick “Hey, I’m not dead yet but I’m close to it” would wake her up, and she wouldn’t go to sleep for days. Flug wasn’t one to judge, but there was a difference between a productive all-nighter, and the kind where you just sit in bed watching cat videos all night. He may not have much of a right, but it was still there.

 

With that, he pushed himself out of the seat he had occupied on and off for two whole days, rubbing his eyes once more in the hopes that he’d at least rid himself of some of the sand there, before grabbing his laptop and hobbling over to the bed. If he was going to be writing, he at least wanted to be comfortable, and if he kept sitting in that chair, that wasn’t going to happen. With a decent stretch, he pushed himself under the covers, opened his laptop, and began typing. He didn’t care that it was mostly just his half awake rambles being put to paper. He didn’t care that it was probably illegible to anyone that read it, including his future self. It was  _ something _ , and something was better than nothing. Flug just needed to get whatever he could on paper, before he fell asleep.

 

He didn’t even last half an hour before that happened.


	4. All Work and No Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flug desperately tries to finish his project before the due date. It's easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Starry here. Sorry for the whole not posting anything for months thing. I... I actually feel kind of bad about that. Like, I disappeared on you guys, and... Well, yeah. I'm really super sorry about that. I was just going through some tough times (mostly college and stuff), and it's hard to write if your heart's not in it, you know? This is a short filler chapter, mostly just to get me out of my rut. So yeah. Hope you enjoy it anyways :) Next chapter will be a lot better! No spoilers yet, but someone will be making their first appearance ;)
> 
> Stay tuned.

Flug sighed as he shut the door behind him, tossing the bag with his box of brand new red converse sneakers besides it before throwing himself onto the bed. He couldn’t believe it; he had spent three hours at the mall. Three hours that he could’ve been using to fix up this stupid project he was working on. A half hour spent in the fucking  _ Disney _ Store of all places, with Demencia trying to choose between a Bing Bong plush that smelled like cotton candy, or a Lotso Huggin Bear that smelled like strawberries. Eventually, she had just bought both and it had been done, thank whatever God was out there, and they were able to leave before she became engrossed with anything else. But it was still a half hour wasted, three hours  _ wasted _ .

 

He threw his pillow over his face, holding it close as he groaned into it. Great. Fucking  _ great _ . Now, he had even less time to actually do the project, he reeked, and he was going to get a pill in the fucking mail. A pill that cost upwards of six hundred dollars, might he add! He thought he was going to get a pill in the mail, anyway. Maybe he’d actually have to pick it up? He sighed, throwing the pillow out of the way and just staring at the ceiling. It didn’t matter. It was going to happen, the whole world was crumbling around him, and he felt like he was going to die.

 

Part of him wished he did.

 

He still had his schedule, though. As long as he pulled two consecutive all nighters, as well as maybe pushing his bladder to the brink of complete destruction, and making bathroom breaks as short as possible, he would be fine. Right? Work while cooking, or even order out if he could afford it. Demencia was always going willy nilly with her cash, so she probably wouldn’t even mind lending him some! Though, he’d feel bad if he ended up actually doing that. Of course, he’d probably just end up forgetting to eat, until his body started complaining and he was forced to, lest he pass out and waste even  _ more _ time than he already was. He could pull that off, right?

 

With that, he pushed himself off the bed once more, sitting up with a grunt before finally getting back to work, like he had told himself he would. If he didn’t finish this project by Tuesday, not only would he fail, but everyone would hate him, and he really couldn’t handle that kind of stress right now. Or ever. But specifically right now.  As long as he rarely ate, barely slept, and used the toilet as infrequently as possible, though, he would finish, and things would be okay. He’d be fine! He just needed time to actually work and do the things he needed to do.

 

He moved over to his desk, cracking his fingers and looking to the blueprint that sat on his desk. He had everything he needed, and most of it could be done here. The rest could be finished up during his breaks between each class to go to the mechanics workshop. He could do this. Things would work out!

 

* * *

 

 

And they did.

 

Sure, it had taken two whole days and nights of being locked in his apartment with no breaks, except to use the bathroom, and using whatever money he could scrounge up to order a large cheese pizza from that horrible restaurant down the street, but it  _ worked _ . He had a (somewhat) functional prototype, by Monday morning and all it had cost was his sleep schedule, his taste for decent food and his sanity! A small price to pay for success.

 

He looked to the finished product that sat on his desk, wiping the sweat off his brow before laughing hysterically, which was shortly followed by crying in relief. Oh God, he’d actually succeeded! He’d actually done it, with some time to spare, and by some he meant around seventeen hours to write the paper, which thankfully only had to be, like, five pages? He could manage that, right? He wasn’t the best writer, but hey, it was better than not turning anything in at all. Oh! And he also had to do the presentation… and make sure everyone knew how to work the device… 

 

Oh… He really hadn’t thought this through, had he?

 

Nobody else was going to help him on this, and he was exhausted to the point that he was trembling with nerves and the energy to actually keep himself up was waning. He didn’t know if he could actually make it to class today, but if he didn’t go then he wouldn’t be able to finish the actual mechanical parts of this stupid piece of-

 

He stopped that train of thought before it could go any further, taking deep breaths. He was… He was okay. He could do this. Just needed to make it through the day, and then he could finish everything between classes, just like he had told himself he would! It wasn’t going to go wrong! And if everything went according to plan, he would have… he counted on his fingers. Twelve hours left! One page an hour, for five hours, and then all he would have to do were the slides. He could do this! No, not could. He  _ would _ do this. Even if he felt like he was going crazy, even if he felt like he was dying, both figuratively and literally, he was going to do this, and he was going to succeed.

 

But first, he wanted to know what time it was. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, if the fact that he was crying and close to passing out didn’t make that obvious. He would need to decide whether it was better to try and sleep for the next however many hours he could squeeze in before class was a good idea, or if he should just cover up the fact that he was a sleep deprived mess of a man with a caffeine addiction and try to start and hopefully finish the paper as best as he could manage. He let out a soft chuckle as the idea to put his name and  _ only _ his name crossed his mind. That would be funny to him, since he did all of the work, but probably not to the other classmates that were “helping” him. Or the rest of the students in his class, since to be honest, he ranked much lower on the social hierarchy than the other people in his group, and to do that would be basically social suicide. Of course, he didn’t care about being liked by everyone. Nobody could be liked by every person they met! It was an impossibility! That’s what his rational mind told him, anyways. If anything, though, it was being hated that he couldn’t handle, and the risks that came with it: Lost job opportunities, the possibility of sabotage. This university was a dog eat dog world, and if he weren’t careful…

 

He let out a frustrated sigh at that, wiping at his eyes from beneath his glasses before pulling out his phone to check the time. Five in the morning, and his first class didn’t start for another… round up to six hours. He guessed he could begin writing the essay for two and a half hours, see how far he could get, and then pass out for another two and a half hours until it was time to leave. Bring his project with him to classes, try to fix it up here and there. Hell, maybe he’d actually get something stable enough to consider a finished product, if he could sneak off to the auto shop sometime during the school day. Maybe if he was lucky, he could confront one of the other students that had wrung him out to dry (Ah, but would he have the courage/energy to? That was the main question.)

 

He was just about to put his phone back down so he could get back to work, which he probably should’ve, considering the approaching due date, and the fact that none of his other ‘partners’ knew what he had made or how to do it, when something caught his eye: His notifications. Over the course of two days, Demencia had texted him over sixty times, most of them one letter in length, spelling out his name when put together. Others were done in italics. Some even had those weird emoticons she found so endearing, which he found to be the complete opposite (“Why say in pictures what you can say in words? Less confusion.”). It was all he could do to not text her, though. He hated when other people worried, especially about him, but shooting a quick “Hey, I’m not dead yet but I’m close to it” would wake her up, and she wouldn’t go to sleep for days. Flug wasn’t one to judge, but there was a difference between a productive all-nighter, and the kind where you just sit in bed watching cat videos all night. He may not have much of a right, but it was still there.

 

With that, he pushed himself out of the seat he had occupied on and off for two whole days, rubbing his eyes once more in the hopes that he’d at least rid himself of some of the sand there, before grabbing his laptop and hobbling over to the bed. If he was going to be writing, he at least wanted to be comfortable, and if he kept sitting in that chair, that wasn’t going to happen. With a decent stretch, he pushed himself under the covers, opened his laptop, and began typing. He didn’t care that it was mostly just his half awake rambles being put to paper. He didn’t care that it was probably illegible to anyone that read it, including his future self. It was  _ something _ , and something was better than nothing. Flug just needed to get whatever he could on paper, before he fell asleep.

 

He didn’t even last half an hour before that happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, thanks for reading this! I wrote most of it in one day, so I really hope you all enjoy, and if you want, feel free to check out the ask blog I made based on this AU idea! https://villainoussquip.tumblr.com/ . Also, make sure to comment if you want, and give me some feedback suggestions! I'm always down for ideas and concrit!


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